


Cinna's Story

by Sexidebater



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22482835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexidebater/pseuds/Sexidebater
Summary: Image is EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING! And Cinna was a huge part of Katniss's image during the games and after the games during the rebellion. So here is his POV of it all! Enjoy!
Kudos: 2





	Cinna's Story

**Author's Note:**

> Here is Cinna's POV/his story! I wrote this a LONG time ago, like 6 years ago. So slightly less spectacular than my current work since I was a budding author back then. But I still like it!  
> I hope I have captured his voice well. Please review and leave Kudos!

Nobody knows much about me, so I want to tell you more about me. I am Cinna and I helped design the Mockingjay.

And this here, is my story.

First off, I have always loved fashion.

Loved it.

To me, it was a way to express myself in a way that the capitol approved of. It was a means of expression that the capitol wouldn't kill me for.

I couldn't express myself in any other way except through fashion.

From an early age I always knew that I wanted to be a fashion designer. I didn't know where I wanted to work, but I wanted to have people wear my designs.

So I wanted to mainly be in retail fashion because that meant that people would be able to buy my designs with relative ease and get them at a fair price.

And I held onto this idea until I was 15.

You see, while I was a capitol citizen, I didn't come from a fully affluent family. My parents were working class and I was their only child.

We made enough money to pay for our bills and to support ourselves, and we had a little left over for fun, but we didn't get to have a lot of fun because there wasn't much left over.

My mother was a fan of the Hunger Games, my father, not so much.

To him, it was just a vulgar way for the Capitol to show power. In his view, they were murdering children for fun. It sickened him.

He hated having to watch the Hunger Games but he did it with minimum complaints because he didn't want to be punished.

My mother on the other hand, loved EVERY single second of the violence. She thought that the tributes were happy to be there.

That it truly was all just a game to them meant to bring them honor.

She was dehumanized and didn't see the senseless violence in the games.

And neither did I until I was 15.

When I was 15, that was the year that Titus was in the games.

I was watching the games with my mother, and whenever Titus killed someone, they had to censor his kills because he ate the dead tributes.

It didn't sit well with me and I was left wondering what made Titus go so insane, that he started to eat his kills.

That was when it hit me.

The Games themselves did that tributes. The games made the tributes go insane.

I had an epiphany and I decided at that moment, that I wanted to be part of the solution instead of part of the problem.

So I started to try to become a designer for the tributes.

Years of low level internships finally got me to the point where I could apply to be a designer for a tribute.

Before the 74th Hunger Games, I decided that I wanted to work for the absolute underdog. So I applied to be the stylist for District 12.

When my application was accepted, I was approached by an intern that I had seen around the office before but who didn't speak to many people.

He asked to meet me in private later.

We met in a bar the night before the reapings and whispered to me about the rebellion and how they wanted people on the inside to help them.

He told me that he had been watching me closely, and had realized that I didn't want to play by the Capitol's rules which is why he had approached me.

I agreed to work with the rebellion and when the spunky girl from District 12 was made my project, I decided to make her infamous in history.

Seeing her save her little sister like that brought tears to my eyes and I knew that I had to do everything in my power as a designer to make her desirable by the Capitol people so that they would sponsor her.

I met with Portia the night after the reapings and we decided to set our tributes on fire after having a few glasses of brandy in front of a fire place.

We immediately began to get to work on the designs and I created a synthetic fire that wouldn't harm them.

When Katniss arrived, I tried my best to put her at ease. I could tell that she was stressed and I figured that they best way that I could help ease her nerves would be to NOT act like a capitol clone and to instead channel my personal style.

I believe that she appreciated seeing me dressed in plain clothes with minimum make up a lot more than seeing me dressed up like her escort Effie.

The response to Katniss and Peeta being on fire was phenomenal.

I began to get so much praise for my simple design that I started a trend among some of the upper class capitol citizens who started to wear my designs and started setting themselves on fire at parties.

I kept quiet about my true motive for making Katniss memorable and just told everyone that I was trying to help her get sponsors.

My real motive for making her memorable was that since she saved her sister, she had become an icon to those without hope.

And I wanted people to remember who she was because at the very least, I was going to make her a martyr if not a victor.

Watching her during the interview was interesting, especially when the dress bottom looked like it was on fire.

I knew that Katniss was going to be a thorn in the side of the Capitol whether she intended to be or not.

When the boy, Peeta, admitted his love for her, why that was an unprecedented turn of events, but I could tell that he truly meant it.

The boy really was in love with Katniss and I found that to be beautiful. I just hoped that Katniss would soon feel the same way about the poor boy.

Peeta was too sweet of a boy to be utterly crushed by the cruel hands of love.

Sending Katniss into the arena was possibly the hardest thing that I had ever done.

I sat with Portia that night drinking. It was a long day, but thankfully, my girl had made it out of the bloodbath and Peeta had made it into the careers.

I watched every grueling moment of the games, usually with a drink in my hand to help soothe my nerves.

From when Rue died and Katniss comforted her, to when she was looking for Peeta after the announcement that tributes from the same district could be crowned victors together.

To when she stood there next to Peeta, ready to kill herself in order to save them both.

My heart ached and my liver suffered for it all.

When Katniss and Peeta were announced the victors, I was sitting at the bar.

I asked the bartender for a napkin and a pen and quickly I sketched the first draft of Katniss's dress for the crowning interview after the games.

The bartender watched me sketch as did a few other patrons. The ladies at the bar commented on how simple the dress look.

I looked at them with a smile, "That is the point. Katniss is a simple girl who has found a fantastic love. And I want to show that to the Capitol."

The all awed at those words, falling even more in love with Katniss and Peeta.

I took my sketch back to Portia and together we collaborated the colors and the outfits, making them ready for when our now victors would be crowned.

My dress worked perfectly on Katniss.

It made her appear completely innocent and non-threatening.

And she played the part well.

She was a girl who was hopelessly in love.

The only problem was that she didn't realize that she wasn't acting, that she actually was in love with Peeta.

She had just convinced herself that she was pretending so that she could save her ass and her family's ass.

She went home after that, and I thought that after the victory tour, it would all be over.

The victory tour was not fun.

My poor girl was plagued with memories of the fallen tributes at every stop. District 11 was the worse. I don't know how she had managed to pull it together and not have a major breakdown.

After the victory tour, I thought everything was done. I thought that she was free and that she would just be soon leading the rebellion.

I was wrong about the cruelty of the Capitol. They were worse than I had suspected.

When the Quarter Quell was read on the television, my heart stopped.

I went out and got plastered that night, further making my liver suffer.

It was then that I started my designs for her to become the Mockingjay for the rebellion. I designed a book specifically for her to use during the rebellion and then I sent it off to Coin in District 13 so that it could be held for when Katniss would inevitably go to District 13.

I knew that I was probably going to die before the full rebellion start. So I was going to give the Capitol hell for what they had just done to my girl and to every other victor there was.

After the reaping, Snow sent word to me that I was to use Katniss's wedding dress as her interview dress.

I complied, but first I made my modifications.

Portia and I made sure that our tributes/victors would be remembered again this year for the parade.

So we set them on fire, again.

And as you know, I set Katniss on fire one last time for her interview.

I always hated that wedding dress design anyway. It was gawdy and the capitol people liked it because it was gawdy.

But my Mockingjay dress was possibly my most favorite creation of all time.

The glare that Snow gave me while I was waving to the crowd let me know that my time was up.

I was tempted to flip him off but I restrained myself. Katniss would need me up until she went to the arena.

Then Peeta said that Katniss was pregnant. I kept the silent chuckle to myself as the crowds around me had a major fit because they finally realized that these were children who they were sending off to fight to the death.

I was glad to find out that my fellow citizens actually did have a conscience.

The next day, I had to say my final goodbyes to Katniss. I knew that I would never be seeing her again. So I said goodbye for the last time.

If I thought that sending her into the arena the first time was hard, the second time doing it was just absolutely crushing. I was completely saddened, my soul was crushed.

She went into the tube that would take her up, but the thing was that it didn't take her up. It just was frozen there.

I heard the door slam open behind me and before I could turn around, I felt a blow on the back of my head and I was knocked unconscious.

I awoke in a medical holding cell, strapped down to a table with an IV attached to me. When I was well enough to sit up, they took me to an empty cell that was completely grey and had a metal slab to act as a bed.

They then soon took me away for interrogation and tied me to a chair to ask me questions. And when they did that, I didn't utter a word.

I had lots of information that they wanted, but I didn't utter a single god damn word to them.

They used many methods of torture on me, trying to get me to talk, from waterboarding, to electric shocks, to the Chinese Water Torture method and more, but I didn't talk.

After about three days, President Snow entered the room.

He looked pissed.

Honestly, I was shocked that the President was coming in personally to oversee my torture.

"Listen up Cinna, if you give us the information that we want, the we will let you go and make you a highly sought after designer. I'll let you design my clothes. But you first have to tell us everything that you know." he said.

The man reeked of roses and copper.

So the rumors were true about his mouth sores that bled a lot, I thought to myself as his face was in front of mine and he was breathing on me.

I smiled at him, knowing that this was the end, and that nothing else could happen to me except death.

And it was then, that I was perfectly happy with death.

I had done my duty, I had designed all the dresses, I had accomplished what I had set out to accomplish.

I had made the Mockingjay.

So I told Snow exactly what I thought.

"Well, Mr. Snow, you can fill my head with as many promises as you want, but I'm not going to believe them because you are a liar. So frankly I think that you can take your words and promises of life, and shove them straight up your ass."

Snow screamed in rage, grabbed the gun of a peacekeeper, and pressed it into the middle of my forehead, blood splattering from his mouth onto my face.

"Last chance Cinna," he growled, "Give me what I want to know, and then you can live."

I gave him a cocky smile, "Perhaps you didn't understand me clearly, let me rephrase. President Coriolanus Snow, please. Go. Fuck. Your. Self."

I made sure to enunciate every syllable and to be looking him directly in the eyes as I said it.

I had a cocky smile plastered across my face as Snow pulled the trigger and killed me.

I died a content, and completely fulfilled man. I had accomplished all my goals and I helped end oppression.

I had left my mark on history in a positive way.

And I had no regrets.

And as they say in France, or what use to be France, fashion capitol of the world:

Viva la revolución!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Leave Kudos and reviews! I'm trying to transfer all my one-shots over today so I can start working on transferring the bigger fics! Let me know what y'all think!


End file.
